


And who are you?

by heartlert



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: :(, Ben doesn't die, F/M, Fix-It, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Reylo - Freeform, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, This is my first fic lol, amazingly cast amazing ben solo, anyway this is a bit cheesy, ben deserved so much better, ben is my fav, born out of frustration, i wont believe he kissed the girl and became one with the force immediately after, reylo lives, they did them so dirty, tros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartlert/pseuds/heartlert
Summary: Ben Solo wouldn't let his parents' war end in defeat, he wouldn't let all of those martyrs die for naught. He would make it work. But he had to climb to where she was fighting her demons before it was too late.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68





	And who are you?

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a good way to cope?

Ben Solo was falling rapidly, treading on the brink of unconsciousness. Wind hit him everywhere aggressively as he tried repeatedly not to swallow the thick, black hair strands that felt salty within his mouth. He was hit by an idle desperation, a vague acceptance that this was the end to his life, and probably Rey’s, and he hoped not - he now really did - the Resistance’s. This could be the end of the ideals his loving mother had died believing in, and his father as well as he’d pushed through his abdomen with his lightsaber. The death of the rebellious principles he’d tried to crush down violently under his grip as a Supreme Leader, while somewhere in his indomitable heart there was a constant, vibrating holler of that same rebellion, and more than simple feelings of sympathy towards those he called his enemies, never wholeheartedly believing them so. The ground was approaching at unimaginable speeds, and he could only think about the billions of people who had died for him to win this sole battle, and he could not do it. He had let all of them down, and he had let Rey down.

Rey.

He heightened his senses to reach the ground a mere five meters below him, and he begged the Force to mitigate the heavy blow. The hit was not exactly cushioned, but the Force had acted in his favor and slowed him down enough so that it was not a mortal blow, if only barely. He cursed breathlessly and heaved intensely once, twice, again and again working his painful lungs, until he could breathe more or less normally again. He stood up slowly, and looked up. It was a long way to the throne, but he couldn't waste any more time. He was physically crippled, but so fed up with himself for not being up there, fighting, that he got the resolve to make for the wall and start climbing towards the emperor and the girl he’d ordered him to kill. But he could never really have, as their souls converged into one, a dyad in the Force, and yet he was letting her face the incarnation of every Sith Lord by herself like this. So, with coarse and soon-to-be blistering hands, he climbed.

Just a couple of seconds after he began ascending, every wall was illuminated intensely with a light blue glow. His attention was redirected towards the heavens, where an almost blinding light source stretched upwards and crossed the newly opened roof of the throne room, to envelope the ships of the Resistance. Uncontrollable X-Wings were crushing rapidly into the unfairly bigger ships of the First Order and turning into shards. The Emperor. A sting of helplessness needled him, but he immediately thought about his mother. This was her battle, Rey’s battle - _their_ battle. Countless had been martyrized to save the Skywalker and the Solo he had within him. He meant hope. So he climbed with difficulty, yet with an immense and unbreakable determination.

As he moved upwards bloody, sweaty, panting, and with agonizingly painful hands -god, he missed his uniform´s gloves now-, he could hear them: more than a thousand voices in his head, or in every fabric of the very Galaxy, he didn't know. All-encompassing and far-reaching: Luke, Qui-Gon, Mace Windu, Yoda, Obi-Wan, Hennix - he somehow knew who all of them were, all the way back until the Prime Jedi. They were speaking directly to Rey. “Be with me,” she had asked. And every single one of them had replied in unison, to the last of their kind:

_“The Force will be with you... always.”_

Pride and delight surged in him, swelling his heart, and his hands weren't hurting any more. Only closing his distance to the top was in his mind. How could he think of pain? Rey was not a young Padawan anymore. The Last Jedi was fighting, up again on her feet, facing the Emperor, and she was stronger than ever. He knew it. She was only a girl, she was only a fighter, and she was the totality of every Jedi to have ever existed, glorious and unyielding. And he fucking adored her.

“I AM ALL OF THE SITH!”

“And I… _am all of the Jedi!_ ”

***

Things were quiet when he reached the base. He had felt a huge disturbance in the Force minutes before, and within him it was oddly suddenly quiet since. Above him developed the war. Pilots had regained control over their ships and were attacking the enemy fleet relentlessly and with regained hope. There was no sight of Palpatine to be seen. In front of him, a white-clad figure lay motionless on the floor and his heart sank, his worst fears being confirmed.

He stumbled his way to Rey and let his body fall next to hers. With his heart in his throat, he held her carefully, flinching at her coldness as her limp arm fell uselessly to her side. Ben gathered courage to look up at her face. Her eyes were open and unstaring, her pale mouth gaped open and turning more purple by the minute. He felt frightened and harrowed as he never had felt, and swallowed a salty tear. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs so that everyone in the battle above them would hear despite the raging explosions, laser shots and war cries. How could they go on with the confrontation? The world had just stopped. Rey was dead. Rey, who they should all thank their lives to, thank the Galaxy to. If they won -he knew they would- it would have been because of this single strong warrior who was gone for all of them, so that they could live a happy and peaceful life for all eternity. Yet another martyr. The end of the Jedi. A life of loneliness.

He did something he hadn’t in years: he hugged. She sit her limp body up and hugged her with all his fondness.

A million thoughts crossed Ben’s mind in the second he hugged the dead girl he was holding. His life would not make sense now, he would be alone and nobody would understand or believe his change of heart. They would think of him as an opportunist who, with his armies gone, seeked asylum amongst the peace of the people he tried to kill so furiously. If left to live, they’d think he would gather strength and plot a new attack, strengthened twofold (as if he could). They would kill him, and he couldn’t blame them, of course. It was a logical thing to assume, him being a sick and twisted, soulless bastard.That’s what Hux believed, that’s why he wanted him gone. He might have been right. He knew him well. He would have to live and die secluded, like his uncle had tried to.

No, Luke had been mistaken. And Hux didn’t know him. Only two women had, and they were gone forever. He was genuinely and inescapably alone.

But Rey had saved Luke. And her spirit had saved Hux’s heart from Kylo’s rottenness, even if ever so slightly, as he had helped her reach her ship when she came to his in order to save a captive friend. Her ever kind-hearted self had likewise saved Ben’s life and spirit in the moon of Kef Bir, on top of the wreckage of the Imperial Death Star. His mind traveled to the aftermath of that confrontation they had, where she was his only worthy opponent, and he her sole deserving adversary.

_The sea howled booming against the Death Star’s wreckage. Both were fighting with brutal strength, yet none with a real conviction to end the other’s life. To an outside observer, they were in for the kill at all moments. But it was a tacit arrangement between them, one they didn’t choose but which was chosen for them by an ineludible Might, bigger than them both. Or so he had thought, up to when his abdomen was gashed by a billion scorching needles. Roaring waves deafened them._

_And then his mother had died. And all went silent. All they could listen to were each other’s heavy breathing. The Force was agitated like with the seismic waves of a monstrous earthquake and shook them both to a cease of arms._

_“Leia,” she uttered shallowly, watery-eyed._

_He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe well either, what with his body pierced burningly by Rey’s saber. Without realizing, he dropped his own drawn sable to the debris._

_Then suddenly she looked at him horrified and in compassion. That was the frightened stare of someone who had lost a mother. They felt the same, he immediately comprehended. His mother was as important to her as she was to him, and yet again they felt each other as one. If only for a moment, their separate bodies and life stories felt like a mere illusion, like a formality for their existence in this world to be allowed and understood. They were one in the Force, the Force which was addled with the mournful departing of its Princess._

_Unthinkingly, she placed her hand under his chest. She was anxious and he was breathing hollowly through his mouth, staring at her in the eye. She stared back, panicky and looking like she was about to break down and cry (he knew he must have looked the same), her hand with a slight tremor but firmly pressed flush against him. His wound bit at him unyielding with a white, intensifying pain for a long minute, until he only felt a slightly itchy skin. Something had died within him but he couldn't pinpoint what._

_(Once his wound was completely healed she jitterily muttered something he couldn’t remember just now, and left.)_

_He had then talked with his father and thrown his lightsaber far away into the sea after his Dad assured him he was strong enough to do it. Kylo Ren was dead._

But Ben was alive because of Rey’s revitalizing redirectioning of the Force. He placed his hand under her chest, just where his wound had been, and concentrated. He breathed calmly in and out, in and out, and was focused in every inhalation, relaxed in every exhalation, hopeful in every pause. He pushed away his fears, as he had to believe he could heal, for her sake. Palpatine had seen the bond that bound them, and he had reborn with their life source. He had it in him. If there was someone he could save, it was his saviour.

Palpatine. He was holding a Palpatine in his arms. Rey and the Emperor shared a last name, shared genes and blood. They shared a brutal, destructive power. He had seen her push the force to burn that spaceship where she thought her friend was held captive in, against her will, because of anger and desperation. He had also pushed her to do it and winced with guilt now that he remembered that. But he hadn’t teared the ship down - she had. But even if Rey and the Emperor shared all of those connections, these crumbled down at plain sight, as they were polar opposites in spirit. Where she was benevolence, he was resentment. Where she was courage he was violent, reactive cowardice. She was daring, enduring, wild and heroic, she sprouted kindred spirits wherever she stepped in. He, on the other hand, was pure hostility and revulsion, arrogance grounded in deep-seated fear, and he made bile rise to his throat even when they were supposedly on the same side, and he was sure he arose the same in every alleged ally he had ever had. The Emperor had caused that, and Rey had striked him down, proving herself to the Galaxy to be of the noblest lineage, ripping apart the clotting blood bond they had.

Aloof, closed-eyed and lost in these thoughts, he was brought down to earth when he felt movement under his hand -an intake of air- and a hand softly touching his. She sit up surprised and looked at him. Instantly, however, what she saw made utter sense to her and her features relaxed.

“Ben!,” she said tenderly, smiling that kind, toothy smile she had, hazel eyes thinning and nose crunching.

Her cheeks had regained their natural color and her eyes shone with life and light. He had no idea how much he wanted that beaming, wide smile to be directed at him until his heart swelled with joy and a sigh of relief escaped him. She was alive! It had worked, both were alive, and the Emperor was dead at last.

Everything was fine as he held her in his arms and as Ben, as she had called him, was today proud to bear his true name and be a Solo. Rey had externalized and sealed that reality with blood when she had spoken his true name for the first time since he reclaimed it.

And then she kissed him, and all was more than fine. He hadn’t known what to do until he reacted and kissed her back. The kiss was not too long, yet not too short. It lasted for just the time its significance took to sink in. Rey did not hate him as he thought frightfully in a corner of his mind. His head hadn’t been all hopeful and frustrated misreading. She had finally decided to hold his hand, she was doing it now. But it was Ben’s hand, not Kylo’s, and he suddenly remembered what it was that she had said, between wave and wave, before flying away from Kef Bir.

_“I did want to hold your hand. Ben’s hand.”_

And so she did. Ben grinned broadly and earnestly to the woman he was holding, who now held him too.

And proceeded to collapse.

“Ben! Ben, no!” Rey pleaded.

She searched with the Force within the broad man she was holding. There was something dim there, he hadn’t left her. Clutching his torso tightly, she pushed rationed bits of her energy through his chest. She connected their hearts and breathed deeply, hoping they would beat as one. Tears dried on her cheeks. She had to push and give consistently but restrictedly. She had to administer her energy with control. Governing herself, she couldn’t give out and outdo it as he had. How could she lose him now she had just gained him? What inexcusable law of the world could take a half of her so unwarrantedly? She already began to feel weak, maybe too much so, and she might have had to resort to spilling all her energies out on him, or aborting the process and accept defeat. She wondered what she would do, who it was right to save, instead of who she wanted to.

But he breathed. She immediately cut off the flow she was pushing towards him and let out a quick huff of air. Ben opened his eyes imperceptibly, but she caught that. She felt incredibly debilitated, but she had not been powerless. They had both saved each other, in more ways than one.

Both collapsed onto the floor, feeble, wordless and content.

***

Rey is visiting the Lars’ farm in Tatooine, where Luke was brought up. She can feel his presence everywhere, and imagines where he must have played as a child and how he looked when he was as young as her boy.

Two pairs of hands place Luke and Leia’s lightsabers on the sand, and together, two minds push them down, down until they are out of sight and buried more than six feet deep, only to be be sepulchered deeper by countless sandstorms to come.

They laid the brothers to rest thus.

It is fine, however. Rey had built a new pair of sabers, with a past unwritten and a new long story to tell. Their golden glow would accompany many generations to come.

“And who are you?” asks a local woman, wrinkled skin and gnarly hands weared down by years of exposure to the desert.

Five years after the Galaxy celebrated the fall of the First Order, she couldn't get enough of the thrill answering that question gave her, after awkwardly replying for so many years before that.

“My name is Rey Solo-Skywalker. And these are my husband and son, Ben and Han-Finn.”

**The end.**

**Author's Note:**

> Ben is just my favorite character in the sequels, and I think he’s the best element in them, really. Together with the beautiful visuals. Plot-wise, eh, I think they could be better - and I think that with the ending of TROS, you could deduce just what I would improve! Haha so yeah, amazingly cast amazing Ben Solo, I won’t believe you died just like that. Honestly what and *why* was that.  
> Please feel free to comment if you read, so I know how I did on my first work! Even a two-word review helps! :)  
> *edited after publication to fix errors*


End file.
